


Relax

by divinepotato



Category: Far Cry 3
Genre: Drug Use, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fantasizing, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 21:06:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2243511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divinepotato/pseuds/divinepotato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After dumping an unconscious Jason at the very bottom of the mass grave, a frustrated Vaas finally, finally gets some time alone to ruminate over what happens next.  Along with a little personal recreation, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relax

**Author's Note:**

> Reference to blowjobs and sex, but nothing actual.   
> Enjoy!

Despite the fact that he ran the place, it was really fucking hard for Vaas to get five minutes to himself at any hour other than those that he spent sleeping. If organizing raids was not demanding his attention, it was attending to the ‘guests’ that had been sent parachuting down to his island, or sailing in, or hang-gliding in, or those who had simply washed ashore. Once that was done, it was the sheer bloody-minded ineptitude of his men that served to drive him batshit fucking insane, because they needed him to hold their hands through every little fucking thing.

If he wasn’t warm and loose and three sheets to the fucking wind already, he would have shot the man on the spot just for barging in after he’d retired to his own little shack for the afternoon. Some boring fucking question about their latest batch of product, and Vaas sent him on his way, tension headache forming behind his eyes and making him want to kick the table over into the wall. It wasn’t helped by the throb of bass from the centre of the compound, where the men relaxed, and the girls danced almost daily.

He just wanted to fucking relax. Scrounging a beer from the shitty fridge humming in the corner, and rummaging through one of the drawers at his desk until he found what he was looking for, a tiny vial of some unlabeled blueish liquid, Vaas then flopped down into a chair with a distinctly irritated grunt. Uncapping the vial, he knocked back the drug and, making a face at the salty taste, chased it with the lukewarm beer in his hand.

Sinking into the chair after that was like sinking into warm taffy, comforting and yielding. The throb of his head seemed faraway and inconsequential, the pulse of the music outside timed itself perfectly to his heartbeat and ran flyaway through his veins. His eyes closed, and Vaas just listened, letting his brain drift, quiet for a moment or two. Bass rattled through his small shack and the floor beneath his feet, and he considered with catlike laziness what he might do with Jason Brody when the American came for him.

The double entendre was not lost on Vaas’ drug-addled subconscious, his heartbeat sending a slow throb of heat through his groin until he was too unworkably fucking horny to ignore it. Whatever, he’d been intending to relax nonetheless. Another gulp of shitty Chinese beer, and he sat up just enough to manage his clothing when he decided to, instead settling for the moment to kneading his hardening cock through the fabric of his pants.

Like the drug, Snow White insinuated himself inside Vaas’ brain and stuck there, forming wild thoughts of the man out there in the courtyard, working himself against one of those poles, grinding against metal in time with the ceaseless beat of the music. Vaas sighed, too relaxed to be truly annoyed by it, and worked his pants open with sluggish fingers, setting to stroking his dick, thumb rubbed up under the head with each pass.

A groan shook out of him when he thought about getting Jason down from there. Maybe he’d put the kid’s pretty pink mouth to better use than his macho bitching. He doubted that Jason had ever sucked cock before, but he seemed to learn quick. The pad of his thumb teased a bead of clear fluid from the tip of his dick, and Vaas eyed it, lids dropping heavy to half-mast, almost drowsy with heat and arousal.He’d have put money on the fact that by the time Vaas was done with it, Jason Brody would suck dick like a pro and fucking enjoy it. He wanted to see those green eyes wet with tears when he choked on it, feel his throat work around and struggle to take him in. 

“Fuck,” Vaas sighed, almost weary, spitting in his hand and returning his attention to his own desire, his hand still making steady strokes in time with that never-ending throb. He toyed with himself, a little, gathering his foreskin over the head of his dick and holding it there, wondering if the kid was cut like he knew many Americans were. Poor fuckers. A rough little laugh rattled in his chest, and he shook his head, passing his thumb over the tip of his length again.

Maybe if Jason was good, he’d fuck him. Press him down over the desk and pound into him until he screamed himself raw. He’d make it good-- Vaas wasn’t a fucking monster, after all. He’d be good. Get Jason off until it hurt the kid to cum, until he was too open and sensitive and squirming to get away. He’d look good wrecked and begging, Vaas thought, dick twitching in his grip at the idea. He’d mark him, of course, bite down and claw into him and grind his bones until they really were one another, body and blood.

He’d break him down and remake him, mold him just like he’d molded himself, into the warrior he wanted to be. And then Vaas would turn Jason Brody loose on the world at his side, and the whole fucking island would burn with it. 

Vaas shook his way through his orgasm with a groan like he was dying, toes curling in his boots. He barely managed to get his pants up before sleep washed over him like a breaking wave, resolving to maybe put his plans better into action tomorrow.   
  
Somewhere on the island, Jason Brody crawled out of a mass grave with vengeance on his mind.

 

 


End file.
